Wolzer Bolzer

The Gospel According to Wolzer Bowlzer
—an epistle for those watching the monarchy wobble in real time

In the beginning was the Firm, and the Firm was with drama, and the drama was royal.

And lo, there came unto the scrolls a scribe named Tarnz, armed with wit and receipts, who saw the fog and said:
Wolzer. Bowlzer.

For the people were lost in the wilderness of peerage bills and peerage spills.
And lo, did the “special breed of stubborn stupid” shout from atop their digital soapboxes:
“DNA for the dukes! Bloodlines or bust!”
But Tarnz, being of great discernment and sharper tongue, said unto the chaos:

“If DNA be your god, then let Victoria’s secrets be spilled. Let the crown unravel from the hemophiliac thread backward.”

And there was silence in the palace of memes.
For what is legitimacy but a story well-maintained?
What is monarchy but cosplay with better stationery?

Then came the false prophets shouting
“Harry is Herbert’s! Camilla is karma! William is war!”
But Tarnz stood firm, smiling beneath the mana of a proverb tattooed in ink and legacy:
Kaua e mate wheke, mate ururoa.
Do not die like an octopus—die like a hammerhead shark.

And when the trolls began frothing,
When the gaslighting came cloaked in citations half-read,
Tarnz did not falter.
Tarnz did not flinch.
Tarnz said simply:

“Wolzer. Bowlzer.”

And thus ended the scroll, but not the flame.
For the pen was mightier,
And the shark bit harder.